Wednesday, March 14, 2007

To the end of the line, start to finish, I am still a Hill. No one can take that from me; it's written in my genes. No amount of degradation or homelessness or poverty can erase it; it will still be there. It is my birthright, oldest child of two oldest children, and I won't be robbed of it. I'm not talking about money, it's about identity and familial pride. It's easy to forget in this wilderness settled by a handful of immigrant families, by people who probably weren't all that bright before they started inbreeding.

What is a Hill?

We are eccentric and idiosyncratic, and for the most part, make no apologies for it.
We are, as a rule, intelligent.
We actually enjoy listening to classical music, and in fact this is probably the type that comes to our minds first if we hear the word "music".
We play chess, read books, collect things, and enjoy outdoor activities aside from team sports.
We frequently have bad knees, sinus problems, allergies, and few close friends.
We are concerned with education, status, and having a respectable job and position.
We like fine things: not necessarily brand new things, but good things. Actually, for a family that tends towards valuing good things, we're fairly frugal. We have a word for new, unnecessary, cheaply produced items: "crapola".
We appreciate culture, although the family could fairly be labeled "WASPy".
And then there's the Hill family humor...I'm not going to try to explain this.

Someday, I'll live near my family again. Until then, I'll maintain my identity. Which really, when you're a clannish Hill, is sort of uncomfortable, away from the fold.

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